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PANTY STORIES


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Panty Stories

PANTY STORY # 22

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I have loved women's panties for as long as I can remember. I was fascinated with them from afar as a child, looking but never touching, and gradually as an adolescent and then a teenager filching my sister's flowered cotton band-leg panties. I also "borrowed" panties and slips from the family's live-in maid, a tall, well-built black woman who had a delightful collection of nylon briefs in a variety of colors and lace accents. I still think those classic highwaisted silky panties are best, and the most erotic for me.

As I went through my childhood, I went from looking, to fondling, to wearing women's panties whenever I could find a safe way to do it. I never took risks like stealing upstairs with a house full of people, I would only do it when I was alone in the house. As soon as I judged it was safe, I went straight to the laundry hampers and then the dresser drawers to see what the ladies of the house wore. If I found a really nice pair I would strip down and put them on and masturbate in them. With the housemaid, Alma, I frequently put on her pink, red, white, blue, or yellow lace-trimmed nylon panties, sometimes more than one pair, and one of her silky slips, the feeling of them together was incredible. That was the one of the rare times I stole and wore lingerie other than panties.

As an adult, I finally started acquiring a collection of my own which has waxed and waned quite a bit over the years for a variety of reasons, but has always been there.

I know there are a lot of straight men like me who really love to wear women's fancy undies. Many of them wear lingerie under their normal clothes daily. Many are married and have good understandings about their fetish with their wives. For me it was always a Deep Dark Secret, nobody knew, and I only indulged in wearing panties for short sessions now and then and on business trips which were not common in my job. I had tried hints to my wife and received a very negative response. That plus the fact that I've always spent regular time in health clubs has kept me in the closet on this. I really enjoyed my private sessions and didn't feel the need to push for more.

My marriage eventually ended due to mutual lack of interest. I found myself single and dating again and still wearing women's undies occasionally during the days and most nights that I slept alone. At some point here I went through some kind of crisis and threw away almost my entire panty collection, much to my current regret, I had some great panties, and then very slowly started to acquire a few new ones.

I've always bought my panties in department stores, but it was never an easy thing. I've always felt very uncomfortable with it, just never could loosen up and go with it, and only my love of having new and different panties got me through it at all. Now, through the miracle of Internet commerce, I can buy all the panties I want more or less anonymously, and there are places that cater to men and specialize in just my kind of lingerie, the classic nylon full cut brief in silky fabrics with lace trim and feminine color. Silky soft briefs with large lace inserts, pink satin briefs with ruffled lace trim, sissy panties, pay by the number of rows of lace you get. It's like my ship came in.

Suddenly, I found myself with almost twenty pair of new panties and a Vanity Fair Pettileg slip, white with lace edging, and I just went nuts trying everything on and wearing them around. A favorite thing was to put on the Pettilegs over a pair of panties. I started wearing this at night, but eventually put them on under clothes and wore them around the house. I loved the silky smooth feeling from waist to knees and I masturbated frequently. I did a lot of lingerie laundry then.

Eventually, I took the plunge. I put on a pair of Vanity Fair flower print nylon briefs and the pettilegs, pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt over the dainty underthings and went into the city to run an all day errand. My body sang with the silky feeling of the panties and pettipants sliding against each other and my skin. I was totally aware of this and thought others must be, too, but nobody even glanced at me. I wondered a lot about them, though, mostly the women. Not so much the young girls, but the women more my age and a little older, some of whom were quite attractive. I wondered what each one would think if she knew I was wearing panties, if she saw me in panties. Would she be amused? disgusted? turned on? angry? (a little shiver on that last one) Would she want to have sex with me wearing them (as I wanted)? Or would she admonish me for being a sissy? I let these questions linger delightfully in my mind all day as I walked around and encountered different women.

I continued doing this each day over the next few weeks and was exhilarated by the feeling of going out in public wearing these frilly undies. One day, on the ferry coming home, I spilled some coffee on my shoe and bent over in my seat to wipe it off. A few moments later, I had just opened my book when a female voice over my shoulder said quietly but distinctly in my ear, "I just love flowered panties." I jerked around to face the voice, my hand leaping to my back, feeling for the shirt hem and quickly stuffing it down inside my pants. The woman who had spoken was a tall, dark-haired woman in her late thirties. She was attractive, with a kind of no-nonsense look about her that you find in women executives.

"Now you've tucked your shirt into your panties and everyone will see what you're wearing." She spoke with a sneer in her voice now.

I threw myself around and slammed my back against the seat back and quickly reached back and tried to rearrange my clothing. This was hard to do, my hands were trembling from embarrassment and I'm sure my face was beet red. My mouth had gone bone dry, but I couldn't think of anything to say, anyway.

"We need to talk," she said, and turned away. The ferry had just arrived at the terminal and people were starting to move toward the exit ramp. She said, "Come with me," and walked toward the exit. I sat rooted to my seat, unable to move, not knowing what to do, the blood pounding in my ears. She walked back, grabbed me by the shirt and pulled my face close to hers. Very quietly and matter-of-factly she said, "If you don't come with me right now, I'm dead serious I will strip you to your fancy undies right here in front of all these people." That did it. I jumped up and stared at her in horror and in that moment I had no doubt at all that she would make good her threat. I allowed her to take me by the arm and lead me to her car.


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Once in her house, she wasted no time. She had pushed me into her bedroom, stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips staring at me and she ordered me to strip. I was too cowed by her to do anything but obey. With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned and removed by shirt. I noticed her looking at my midsection and I looked down and saw that a section of the waistband of my panties was pulled up above my belt line. That day I was wearing a pair of pink flowered nylon panties with lace inserts on the legs and suddenly I couldn't bear the thought of having to face this dominant woman wearing only those panties. I was too humiliated to take of my pants and terrified of what she would do to me if I didn't.

She certainly meant business. When I didn't make any further effort to remove my pants, she strode quickly over to me and delivered a stinging slap across my face followed by a backhanded that spun me around and sent me to the floor. She grabbed my belt buckle and undid it and in a flash she had stripped off my jeans leaving me gasping on the floor with my head spinning wearing nothing but my flowered panties.

"When I give you an order, you'd better jump, sissy!" She said and started to undress. When she was down to her own bra and panties (pretty pink nylon briefs), she grabbed my arm and pulled me over her bare legs and proceeded to spank my panty-covered bottom until it felt like it was on fire. I was sobbing from the pain and humiliation of the spanking and she was delivering a stern lecture, admonishing me about being a sissy and wearing women's undies. With me sobbing in my panties, she taunted me and insulted my manhood while thrashing my bottom. It was the most humiliating experience of my life.

When she was done, she had me stand in front of her while she stood, hands on hips, and looked me over, admiring her handiwork. I had big red mark on my face, a fiery and painful red bottom, and I was crying as I stood there wearing only my fancy panties.

"I'm done with you now, but I expect you back here next week at this time," she said. "If you're not here at the appointed time, I'll find you and strip you in public. Count on it." She started pulling on a bathrobe and walking into the bathroom. Suddenly, she stopped and turned to me and said, "Don't let me catch you wearing panties again or you'll be punished so badly it'll make what you got today feel like love taps." And with that she was gone.

I knew she would find me and strip me in public if I didn't come. I was surprised and happy to hear that she didn't want me in panties, since whatever she had planned for me, I knew it would be ten times as humiliating if I was wearing only panties. I was so overjoyed about this that it didn't cross my mind to question why.

I was at her door at exactly the appointed time. She was wearing the same bathrobe I saw last week. She ordered me to strip as she started to undo the belt to remove the robe. I stripped down to my jockey shorts, not knowing what she had planned, but relieved that I didn't have to face her in frilly panties.

My relief was short-lived, however, She faced me wearing beautiful white nylon briefs with lace trim at the waistband and legs and a pretty satin bow on the front, with a matching bra. She looked at me standing there in my jockey shorts and sneered, "Why is a sissy pantyboy like you wearing those things?" and she moved toward me quickly. I reached up to protect my face from a slap, but she grabbed my jockey shorts and, in one strong motion, ripped them off.

I looked down at my nakedness, then up at her just as she had launched a wicked right that caught my jaw and sent me hurtling to the floor, dazed. I became aware that she was dressing me herself and I looked down only to find that I was wearing a pair of pink nylon panties with a lace panel on the front. Before I could express my shock and surprise, she was pulling me over her legs again and going to work on my bottom.

As humiliated as I was, or perhaps because of it, this time my cock got rock hard and started to rub on the top of her leg. Her panties felt wonderful on my skin and it wasn't long before I shot a big load into the panties. She was furious at this and spanked and slapped me all over the room admonishing me to never ever make a mess in her panties again.

An hour later, I was standing at the sink wearing the pink panties, and hand-washing her fancy panties, slips, bras, and nylons. It was then that I realized that I had been set up, told not to wear panties, only to increase the humiliation.

I continued seeing this woman on and off for several months until she lost interest in me. Since then, I've been very careful about wearing panties outside of the house, making sure that nothing ever showed. Who knows what would happen to me if another woman who loves panty slaves should happen to see my silky underthings?

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ENTIRE CONTENTS—TEXT AND GRAPHICS LICENSED TO OR COPYRIGHT © 2007 LLAPA ALL RIGHTS RESERVED